


Sure, Fine, Perfect

by Saathi1013



Series: Triumviri [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: First Time, Hair Kink, Other, POV Female Character, POV Third Person Limited, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 06:46:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3886354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saathi1013/pseuds/Saathi1013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt on the daredevil kinkmeme:</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Karen/any + hair kink.  I just want anything about Karen and her beautiful hair. Someone stroking it for hours and their fingers getting all tingly from how soft it is, Karen going all nonverbal from being petted for so long. Maybe Matt accidentally touches it and then can't stop thinking about it. Maybe Foggy sees the way it curls over her shoulders and wants to sink his fingers into it. Anything!<br/>--http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/725.html?thread=628693#cmt628693</p>
</blockquote><p>This fic turned out to be a bit more than hair kink, but it's in there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sure, Fine, Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> [it seems I incorrectly tagged this when I initially posted due to mixing up which fic I was posting - sorry to those looking for femslash, this is not that fic (I'm still working on my next f/f fic for this fandom).]
> 
> No beta; grammar/spelling errors, if pointed out, will be corrected ASAP. Additional concrit: pm me.
> 
> Prompter!Anon, if you want me to tag you here as the giftee, just let me know.

When Karen comes back from the bathroom at Josie's - and the less said about that particular corner of the establishment, the better - Foggy actually  _cheers._ "YES, Karen! Karen, guess what?"  
  
She looks at Matt, who's too busy laughing with that wide, goofy grin he only gets when he's well and truly relaxed. No help there. "...what?" she asks, warily.  
  
"We have decided that you have the prettiest hair in the bar!" Foggy raises his glass of house bourbon, and if it weren't mostly ice at this point, it would slosh everywhere. Matt nods emphatic agreement.  
  
"What?" she repeats.  
  
"Maybe the prettiest hair of anybody we know, but Matt's holding out because of this girl he dated last year..."  
  
"Sorry, Karen," Matt says, looking genuinely apologetic. "But her hair smelled like coconut and shea butter and-"  
  
"Oh my god  _again_  with the coconut," Foggy says, finishing his drink. "I should just order us all some piña coladas - Josie! Do you have a blender?" The bartender responds with exactly the kind of dismissive eyeroll he deserves, and he shrugs it off. "Anyway, at LEAST the prettiest hair in the bar, we've agreed. You put even my own resplendent locks to shame. SHAME, I tell you."  
  
The louder he gets, the warmer Karen's face feels, and by the end of this, she feels like she must be emitting light. "Shhhh," she says. "Besides, I'm pretty sure that if Hugo took out his braids, he'd give me a run for my money - oh no, don't, don't!" She grabs for Foggy's arm just as he's about to turn and shout something undoubtedly mortifying across the bar at Hugo. She turns to Matt. "A little help, here?"  
  
"What for?" Matt asks, his eyebrows lifting above the top rims of his glasses. "You  _do_  have pretty hair."  
  
"How do you know?" she retorts, then feels a vague stab of guilt, still not entirely certain where the lines are.  
  
Matt seems nonplussed. "Look at Foggy," he tells her.  
  
She complies, watching Foggy haggle with Josie. There's a slight tug on her hair, and she looks down, noticing that a few locks have dragged across the back of Matt's hand where it rests on top of his cane, and he's captured a curl between his fingertips. "Oh," she says.  
  
"It happens more than you think," he tells her, gently winding that bit of hair around his forefinger, stroking over it with his thumb. "More than most people realize, maybe. I'm just more... aware of it. This afternoon, when you came in to get my signature, it brushed against the side of my face, and I could smell..." He lifts his hand, bringing the coiled end of her hair just under his nose. "Lemongrass, ginger, a hint of vanilla, bamboo extract..." he says.  
  
"Here we go," Foggy says from her other side. "It's not a piña colada, but it's as fancy as Josie was willing to get. You know, that we can afford." Foggy slides a drink in front of Karen and reaches across to replace Matt's empty glass. The gesture is casual and strangely intimate, personal boundaries between the two worn away from years of familiarity, their shared body language built along the axis of touch. Foggy lifts his cocktail. "To the best-coiffed law firm in Hell's Kitchen," he says, and they all tap glasses and drink.  
  
"Oh, wow, that's good," Karen says, "What's in it?"  
  
"Malibu, cranberry juice, lime wedge," Foggy informs her.  
  
"Too much," Matt declares, frowning. But he takes another swallow anyway, and Karen catches herself staring at the line of his throat, the crook of his fingers around the base of his glass. She looks away, at the bottles on the shelves behind the bar, spotting their reflection in the mirror.  
  
Karen blinks at the realization of how close they all are, Foggy radiating heat at her left side and Matt's thigh pressed along her right hip. She rolls her condensation-slick glass between her palms, watching the ice tumble around. "Take me home," she blurts out, propelled by a rising tide of almost giddy inevitability.  
  
"What?" Foggy asks. "Already? The night is still young! Are you feeling all right?"  
  
Karen nods, answering aloud for Matt, "Just fine." She lets one hand drop to Foggy's knee, watching his eyes widen. "I just want you to take me home," she says with careful emphasis. Glancing at Matt, she sees that there's no surprise on his face, though his mouth parts in a silent indrawn gasp when she adds, " _both_  of you."  
  
And while that'd be the deal-breaker for anyone else, she won't settle for anything less with them. She's seen them divided and estranged, and much prefers to see them working together. The last thing she wants is to become another point of contention.  
  
That doesn't seem to be the primary concern here, though. "Are you  _sure,_ " Matt says. "Karen, we don't want-"  
  
"Very sure," Karen tells them, draining her glass, and Foggy signals Josie to close out their tab for the night.  
  
The cold air outside is a shock, but Matt's hand is a steady anchor on her elbow. "So, okay, just to be clear," Foggy says, glancing around to make there's no one around to hear them, "you want-"  
  
Karen turns, crowding him against a doorway and pressing her mouth to his, just long enough that she feels him relax. She tugs at his lower lip with her teeth before letting him go and finds that Matt is still holding her arm, hovering nearby with his head tilted and a faint smile on his face. Like he could  _hear_ them. At that thought, a tremulous tingle rolls through Karen right down to her toes. "Both of you," she says again. "Is that a problem?"  
  
"Definitely not," Matt answers, his palm skimming up her arm to brush her hair back as he leans in. His mouth ghosts over hers, like he's making sure he's got the right angle, before his lips return, firm and confident.  
  
Foggy lets out a small, high noise as he starts shoving at them. They break apart, Karen feeling bereft and Matt visibly confused. "Not in public," Foggy says. "This requires privacy and nudity and the biggest bed we can possibly find."  
  
"My place is closer," Matt says.  
  
"Are you still sleeping on silk sheets?" Foggy asks, and Matt nods. "Then not only yes, but  _hell_  yes."  
  
A giggle bubbles up in Karen's chest, and that sets Matt off, so they're all still grinning goofily at each other by the time they get to Matt's building. "You two are awfully chill about this," she comments. "Have you ever-"  
  
"College," Matt answers, ducking his head to fumble for his keys. His ears might be going pink, but she can't tell in the dim light.  
  
"Good times," Foggy says, grinning as he follows Matt inside.  
  
"You'll have to tell me all about it," Karen says, already shrugging off her jacket, stepping out of her shoes. "Later." Right now, she needs more than just words, she needs the touch of their hands, the taste of their skin.  
  
As if on cue, Matt moves in behind her, nuzzling the hair behind her ear. "You smell amazing," he murmurs. His palms settle on her hips, pulling her back against him. "Foggy, you should-"  
  
"On it," Foggy says, stepping close to catch her mouth in a searing kiss, cupping her jaw and stroking her cheek. Matt drops his face, stubble scraping along the line of her neck, and she shivers between them, winding an arm around Foggy's shoulders to keep her balance. Foggy's other hand goes to her waist, untucking her blouse and creeping up to splay over her ribs, his thumb grazing the underside of her bra.  
  
She pulls away to gasp, and Matt chuckles, the sound thrumming against her spine. "What do you think, Foggy?" he asks. "Think we can make it to the bed?"  
  
"Dude, I am not getting on my knees on this floor," Foggy replies. "It's cold and I was promised a bed."  
  
"Um," Karen says. Foggy's hand has moved to cup her breast, and he's toying with her nipple through the lace, so she's a little distracted. "Yeah, also voting for bed. Sometime soon?"  
  
"Sure," Matt agrees, and they all start moving again, progress impeded every few moments as they peel each other out of their clothes. It's a graceful, weaving path they trace down the hall and across the wide living room, pools of discarded fabric in their wake.  
  
Karen reaches the bed and stretches out on her stomach, enjoying the feel of the soft texture against her skin, rolling over to find Foggy watching her with a hooded stare and an admiring smile. He has a constellation of birthmarks over his skin that she wants to map with kisses. "Wish you could see what I'm seeing, buddy," Foggy says to Matt, who's two paces behind him.  
  
"Describe it for me," Matt says, and Karen sucks in a breath.  
  
Foggy drops to the bed, reclining beside her, his eyes roving along her figure. And then he begins to speak, describing her from the tip of her toes - "chipped toenail polish, maybe purple" - to the top of her head - "I'm glad you have the black sheets this time, because her hair is practically glowing gold against it in this light."  
  
All the while, Matt's hands follow Foggy's words, learning the shape of her under his fingertips, his palms, until she's squirming, self-conscious and turned on in equal measure. She drags Foggy in, stopping his mouth with hers, swallowing whatever else he was going to say.   
  
Matt winds up on her other side, combing through her hair with a gentle touch. She considers asking -  _is that a thing for you?_  - but between his soothing caresses and the way Foggy's mouth is blazing a trail down her body, she's starting to forget how words work.   
  
Matt doesn't seem to have that problem. "Foggy's going to go down on you until your voice goes hoarse," he informs her. "Then I'm going to lick the taste of you out of his mouth before I fuck you."  
  
"Oh my  _god,_ " she manages, just before Foggy sets about proving Matt right.  
  
  
***  
  
  
The next morning isn't awkward. It's kind of  _nice,_  except for the hangover. Matt cooks breakfast, Foggy steals the first shower while they're still eating, and it takes a full ten minutes for Karen to find her bra. Everyone's mostly quiet, their heads a little achey, but they don't avoid each other, nobody bolts for the door.   
  
Karen's almost sorry they have to leave, but technically, the office  _should_  be open today, and she has to go home to get a change of clothes. "I'll um, see you in an hour, I guess," she says to Foggy while Matt's carefully running an electric razor over his jaw.  
  
"Hey, hey," Foggy says, getting up from his chair and crossing the room, stopping just within arm's reach. "Everything's good, right?"  
  
"Just fine," she tells him, smiling, and steps in close to give him a kiss, warm and lingering. "I'll see you at the office."  
  
At work, everything is better than fine. Before lunch, Foggy complains about the inconvenience of ethics and Matt reminds him that he knew what he was signing up for, and in the afternoon, the firm gets not just one but two -  _two!_  - paying walk-ins, so it's a banner day.   
  
Foggy's still crowing about it as Karen tries to decide whether he needs less caffeine or she needs more.  
  
"Hey Matt, want any coffee while I'm up?" she asks.  
  
"Sure," he says absently, frowning at his computer. She snags his empty mug and leans over his shoulder, peering at the screen to see what's getting him all scowly. "Which case is this for?" she asks.  
  
"...Karen," he says in a strangled voice.  
  
"What?" she asks, turning to look at him. She notices that a few strands of her hair have caught on the corner of his glasses, which means-  
  
"Oh," she says, blushing. "I'm sorry." She carefully brushes it away from his face, her fingertips grazing his temple.  
  
He catches her hand in his, faster than she would have believed possible. " _Karen,_ " he says again, and she knows she shouldn't, but she ducks her head to kiss him anyway.  
  
"...oh hey, it's like someone made porn just for me," Foggy comments from the doorway, and Karen giggles her way out of the kiss. "So, okay, are we locking the door or are we going home an hour early? I'm up for whatever."  
  
Matt pushes his chair away from the desk. "Not at the office," he says. "It's bad enough-" He visibly swallows the rest of that sentence. Karen glares at him.   
  
"She's glaring at you," Foggy informs him.  
  
"Is the boss-employee thing?" she asks. "Because you each have maybe forty-eight hours of seniority on me. I bought all your office equipment and I'm the only one who understands how the phones work. I know all your bank account information, have your social security numbers memorized, and can forge your signatures. So if this is about who has the power around here..." Foggy starts laughing. "What's so funny?"  
  
"No, no," he says, holding his hands up, "you're totally right. Matt, you need to unclench. She's practically a partner. We probably wouldn't even  _be_  here if it weren't for her."  
  
Matt sighs. "...okay," he says, sounding resigned. "But I'm drawing the line at-"  
  
"Office shenanigans?" Karen offers.  
  
"Yeah," Matt says.  
  
Karen and Foggy exchange glances. "Okay," they chorus.  
  
"...okay," Matt echoes warily, clearly dubious.  
  
  
***  
  


Later, she'll admit to herself that Matt was a  _little_  right. It's so much nicer to be in a bed, to take their time and to curl up after. It's almost perfect, actually, listening to the rain on the windows while she drifts off to sleep, Foggy radiating warmth against her side and Matt's hand carding tenderly through her hair.  
  
  
  
  
  


 

  
-end-


End file.
